> A Christmas Story
>
> Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those
> who squandered their means
> and then never had enough for the necessities. But
> for those who were
> genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all
> outdoors. It was from him that I
> learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving,
> not from receiving.
>
> It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old
> and feeling like the world
> had caved in on me because there just hadn't been
> enough money to buy me the
> rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the
> chores early that night for
> some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra
> time so we could read in
> the Bible.
>
> After supper was over I took my boots off and
> stretched out in front of the
> fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old
> Bible. I was still feeling
> sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much
> of a mood to read Scriptures.
> But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up
> again and went outside. I
> couldn't figure it out because we had already done
> all the chores. I didn't
> worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing
> in self-pity.
>
>
>
>
> Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out
> and there was ice in his
> beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good,
> it's cold out tonight." I
> was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the
> rifle for Christmas, now Pa
> was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly
> reason that I could see.
> We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't
> thnk of anything else that
> needed doing, especially not on a night like this
>
>
>
>
> But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging
> one's feet when he'd told
> them to do something, so I got up and put my boots
> back on and got my cap,
> coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as
> I opened the door to leave
> the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.
>
>
> Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front
> of the house was the
> work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever
> it was we were going to do
> wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I
> could tell. We never hitched
> up this sled unless we were going to haul a big
> load.
>
> Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I
> reluctantly climbed up beside
> him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't
> happy. When I was on, Pa
> pulled the sled around the house and stopped in
> front of the woodshed. He got off
> and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high
> sideboards," he said. "Here,
> help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger
> job than I wanted to do
> with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was
> we were going to do would be
> a lot bigger with the high sideboards on.
>
> After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into
> the woodshed and came out
> with an armload of wood---the wood I'd spent all
> summer hauling down from the
> mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and
> splitting. What was he
> doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked,
> "what are you doing?" You been by
> the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow
> Jensen lived about two miles
> down the road. Her husband had died a year or so
> before and left her with
> three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd
> been by, but so what? "Yeah," I
> said, "Why?" "I rode by just today," Pa said.
> "Little Jakey was out digging
> around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips.
> They're out of wood, Matt."
>
> That was all he said and then he turned and went
> back into the woodshed for
> another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded
> the sled so high that I
> began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull
> it. Finally, Pa called a halt
> to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and
> Pa took down a big ham and
> a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to
> put them in the sled and
> wait.
>
> When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour
> over his right shoulder and
> a smaller sack of something in his left hand.
> "What's in the little sack?" I
> asked. "Shoes. They're out of shoes. Little Jakey
> just had gunny sacks wrapped
> around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this
> morning. I got the
> children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be
> Christmas without a little candy."
>
> We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much
> in silence. I tried to
> think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much
> by worldly standards. Of
> course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of
> what was left now was still
> in the form of logs that I would have to saw into
> blocks and split before we
> could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we
> could spare that, but I knew we
> didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them
> shoes and candy?
>
> Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen
> had closer neighbors than
> us; it shouldn't have been our concern. We came in
> from the blind side of the
> Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as
> possible, then we took the
> meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked.
> The door opened a crack and a
> timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am,
> and my son, Matt. Could we
> come in for a bit?"
>
> Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had
> a blanket wrapped around
> her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another
> and were sitting in front
> of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly
> gave off any heat at all.
> Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit
> the lamp. "We brought you a
> few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of
> flour. I put the meat on
> the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the
> shoes in it.
>
> She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one
> pair at a time. There was
> a pair for her and one for each of the
> children---sturdy shoes, the best,
> shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She
> bit her lower lip to keep it
> from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and
> started running down her
> cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say
> something, but it wouldn't
> come out.
>
> "We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He
> turned to me and said,
> "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get
> that fire up to size and
> heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I
> went back out to bring in
> the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much
> as I hate to admit it, there
> were tears in my eyes too.
>
> In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled
> around the fireplace and
> their mother standing there with tears running down
> her cheeks with so much
> gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My
> heart swelled within me and a
> joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul. I
> had given at Christmas many
> times before, but never when it had made so much
> difference. I could see we we
> re literally saving the lives of these people.
>
> I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits
> soared. The kids started
> giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy
> and Widow Jensen looked on
> with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face
> for a long time. She finally
> turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the
> Lord has sent you. The
> children and I have been praying that he would send
> one of his angels to spare
> us."
>
> In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat
> and the tears welled up in
> my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those
> exact terms before, but after
> Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was
> probably true. I was sure
> that a better man than Pa had never walked the
> earth. I started remembering all
> the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me,
> and many others. The list
> seemed endless as I thought on it.
>
> Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we
> left. I was amazed when
> they all fit and I wondered how he had known what
> sizes to get. Then I guessed
> that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the
> Lord would make sure he got
> the right sizes.
>
> Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again
> when we stood up to
> leave.Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and
> gave them a hug. They clung to him
> and didn't want us to go. I could see that they
> missed their Pa, and I was
> glad that I still had mine.
>
> At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The
> Mrs. wanted me to invite
> you and the children over for Christmas dinner
> tomorrow. The turkey will be
> more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get
> cantankerous if he has to
> eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get
> you about eleven. It'll be
> nice to have some little ones around again. Matt,
> here, hasn't been little for
> quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers
> and two sisters had all
> married and had moved away. Widow Jensen nodded and
> said, "Thank you, Brother
> Miles. I don't have to say, "'May the Lord bless
> you,' I know for certain that
> He will."
>
> Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep
> within and I didn't even
> notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned
> to me and said, "Matt, I
> want you to know something. Your ma and me have been
> tucking a little money
> away here and there all year so we could buy that
> rifle for you, but we didn't
> have quite enough.
>
> Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from
> years back came by to
> make things square. Your ma and me were real
> excited, thinking that now we could
> get you that rifle, and I started into town this
> morning to do just that. But
> on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the
> woodpile with his feet
> wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had
> to do. Son, I spent the money
> for shoes and a little candy for those children. I
> hope you understand."
>
> I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears
> again. I understood very
> well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the
> rifle seemed very low on my list
> of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had
> given me the look on Widow
> Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three
> children.
>
> For the rest of my life, Whenever I saw any of the
> Jensens, or split a block
> of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back
> that same joy I felt
> riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me
> much more than a rifle that
> night, he had given me the best Christmas of my
> life.

~Author Unknown to me

Merry Christmas to all of you!
With Love,
Jude (White-Bear)